I'm here to remind you
by rustyliver
Summary: Helena is stuck in the future again and Myka is stuck on a seemingly pointless mission that is driving her crazy. So maybe they can help each other out.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is the third part of what I'm now calling the Remember series. **

It was supposed to be a two month assignment. Now she had been living in the fucking capital of sin for a year. Well, not exactly one year. It will be a year in about two days. They were going to celebrate apparently. Her, Pete and Jon.

Pete loved it here. He said it has all the booze and hot chicks he needed. He was even planning to be stationed here after this is over.

But that's the problem, isn't it? It's never going to be over.

At first, it was about gathering information. It was just a precaution according to her supervisor. They were given intel that the Marcello family was planning to assassinate a member of the Senate.

"Who?" she had asked.

"That's why we're sending you," was the answer she was given.

Leland, her supervisor said it was just a routine check. It was probably nothing. And she would be back at D.C. in two months for her next assignment.

Most of the things she had been doing since she started as an agent were paperwork. So she was really eager to get a field job.

The only problem was it was in Vegas. The place where inhibitions go to die. She hated that. People need to understand that actions have consequences. All the time. She figured the fifty percent divorce rate was due to places like Vegas existing.

It was only two months, she had thought. This kind of assignment was expected. She had to make certain sacrifices to advance her career. This was one of it. And it was only going to be for two months.  
>If only she knew.<p>

Yes, she did shed her good girl image once she went to college. Some say she went a little wild. But she still memorized all the rule books and manuals she could get her hands on. Certain things she did may seem reckless but she always remembered not to go too far.

Pete was the only person who saw through it. He always teased her about the stick that's halfway up her ass.

She didn't quite understand their relationship. He drove her crazy most of the time but there were moments when she didn't even have to say a word and he'd know what she was thinking.

Jon, however, was as miserable as her. He had a fiancé who he proposed to a year ago. They didn't even have a date for their wedding yet. It wasn't hard to guess why.

She was sure that Pete was the only one who was going to be celebrating in two days.

"Excuse me," a voice called out. A female voice. Thank goodness because she can't handle another cheesy pick up line.

She turned and found herself facing a goddess. Now she was the one wanting to deliver a cheesy pick up line if she could find her voice.

"Yes," she managed to blurt out.

"May I have an ashtray please?"

"Sure," Myka said. "I'll go get you one."

...

When she found herself not in 1891 Paris but in 2005 South Dakota, Helena was disappointed. It wasn't that traveling to the future wasn't great but she needed to save Christina. She had gone back four times now. The Regents will find out sooner or later. She suspected it would be sooner rather than later. And when that happens, they will take away her machine and she won't be able to go back anymore.

So she told the Warehouse Agent who greeted her, one Mr MacPherson that she wouldn't be long if he could point out where her time machine was currently at.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Ms Wells," he had said.

It didn't surprise her too much that he knew her name. They were in the Warehouse, Warehouse 13 to be precise. He had probably read her file.

Then she saw her reflection. She tried not to stare for too long. It was on the Lewis Carroll's Mirror.

But MacPherson told her to look more closely.

"Don't worry," he said. "It's properly secured."

She looked carefully at her face. There were some tiny creases where there weren't this morning when she woke up. They were barely noticeable but they were there.

"Am I older?" she asked. "Did the time machine do this?"

"You know as well as I do that physical time travel is impossible."

"Then why am I here? In my own body?"

There was one artifact that she could think of that could preserve her body and all its functions after a hundred years. But it was used as a tool for punishment for the most dangerous of criminals. And if it was used on her, it meant she was one of them.

"By the look on your face, I assume you have guessed the answer correctly."

She was quite annoyed with this man. She didn't trust him. But did it matter? Because if she was right (she can't quite believe it yet), she may be worse than him.

"So you have to understand why I can't let you tinker with our artifacts," he went on.

How dare he? Calling her inventions his. Like she didn't have the right to them. Treating her like she was untrustworthy. She gave her life to the Warehouse. So much so that she wasn't there when her daughter needed her. She didn't deserve this kind of treatment.

MacPherson wasn't finished. "Unless..."

"Don't waste your breathe," she said to him. She didn't trust him. "Whatever it is that you want me to do, it doesn't matter. I'll be back to my time in about twenty one hours."

He snickered. "Are you sure?" retaining that smug smile on his face. "That might be the case when you travel to the past but what happens when you travel to the future? You could be stuck here for weeks, maybe months or years. All those time wasted when you can save, what was her name, Christina?"

She charged forward and grabbed him by his collar. She was fuming.

"You do not use her name like that," she warned.

But she didn't follow through because she knew he was right. She had been to the future before and it was longer than 22 hours and 19 minutes.

Helena continued to stare as Myka walked away to fetch her an ashtray.

When MacPherson gave her a file containing the mission she had agreed to reluctantly, she was surprised to find a familiar face in it. It was like she had never forgotten about all those years ago when she was thrown into a strange but familiar world and fell in love for the first time. She didn't just know now, she remembered, like the memory was always there in the back of her mind.

She could tell that Myka couldn't recognize her. This Myka hadn't met her in her real body yet. But she could also tell regardless of that, Myka was very interested in this body.

...

Myka handed the ashtray to the woman.

She reached into all her pockets. Her pants. Her shirt. Even her jacket. Then she smiled sheepishly, "I don't actually smoke you know. I believe having all that smoke going into the lungs is potentially dangerously."

It was weird because everyone knew that smoking was a health hazard. But Myka didn't say anything because she would occasionally indulge with one or two cigarettes when she got the day shifts and hadn't seen sunlight for days.

"I just wanted to talk to you," the woman continued. "Then I saw the lady over there," she pointed at an old woman who was playing one of the slot machines, "asking you for an ashtray. So..." she trailed off. "I'm Helena. Wolcott. Helena Wolcott."

She knew it. The woman, Helena, was staring at her ass when she went to get the ashtray.

Myka smiled. She didn't normally do this, mixing business with pleasure but this was no longer a business she cared for. And she'd be stupid to turn this stunning goddess away.

"Nice to meet you, Helena. I'm Myka Baker."

"Baker!" her manager called. Asshole.

Other than the usual zombies at the slot machines, there was no one else around. He can't use that crap about attending to everyone's needs. The slot machine zombies preferred not to be distracted. So unless they called upon her, she didn't have anything else to do.

"Didn't know you're a dyke," the bastard said. "Besides, she's too pretty to be one. Let me handle her."

She never wanted so badly to use all her knowledge of martial arts to completely decimate this man. Instead she concentrated all that rage in her palms and gripped the empty air as tightly as possible.

This is one of those times when she craved for a cigarette.

"Whatever," she said. "I'm taking a break."

It's Vegas. Smoking indoors was permitted. But she preferred to stand outside in the cold. Something about the smoke of her cigarette mixing with the fresh air.

She didn't think smoking was cool. She thought it was a filthy habit and someday, it was going to take its toll on her body. But she needed something to take the edge off when she knew she was being impulsive or reckless and not following the rules.

She was exploring her options. She tried chewing gum. But it only managed to hurt her jaw than ease her nerves.

"Those little things are rather addictive, aren't they?" a familiar voice said.

"Oh, this," she wiggled the cigarette between her fingers. "I don't do it much. I'll just put it out."

"No," said Helena. "I don't mind."

"I don't mind too," she stubbed the cigarette on the charred top of the bin next to her. "Besides, they say second hand smoke is more dangerous than inhaling the smoke straight from the cigarette. And I don't want to endanger your life."

"How gallant of you. But I'm not sure to what extent as you just left me with a neanderthal."

Myka laughed. It was exactly what she thought, except, she had more colorful names for that jackass.

"He thought he could be a better company than me."

"He's sorely mistaken then."

The way she was smiling, it reminded her of someone. Someone she had shoved so far in the back of her mind, she was having trouble remembering his name. His real name. Not the fake one that she can't seem to forget no matter how hard she tried. It didn't help that he had the same name as her favorite author.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

She felt foolish now. "It's nothing." Who the hell still thinks about their high school sweetheart? Other than those who married their high school sweetheart of course. And she wouldn't call him her high school sweetheart. Maybe a fling since it only lasted for a week.

"I find it hard to believe that your thoughts are worth nothing."

"Well, you don't know me," she replied. "I need to get back to work."

...

She admitted she was a little out of line. And every being of her was starting to regret her actions. Helena was just being nice. And what did she get for it? A big dramatic storm off.

Myka didn't see her after that. She probably went to a casino with friendlier employees.

She didn't know why she was in such a bad mood.

It was the lack of sunlight, she reasoned. She loved sunlight. She loved the heat from it even if you can barely feel it when it's cloudy or raining.

"It's just sunlight, Myka," Pete would always say to her. "You know the kind of light I like?" and that goofy grin of his would come on.

Then she and Jon would pretend to ignore him.

But it never stopped him from exclaiming, "The dark kind!" which was completely ridiculous. "When the anonymity of your companion or..." he'd wiggle his stupid eyebrows, "companions strips her, or them, off their clothes and inhibitions. And you wake up the next morning feeling awesome!" Then he'd raise his hands for a double high five which had never been reciprocated.

Once, Jon asked, "Are you sure you've never slept with a guy before?"

It shut him right up.

Yes, that was it. The fucking sunlight. She had been doing day shifts for four days now. And the low lighting that casinos usually opt for wasn't helping.

It wasn't some high school ex-boyfriend who went crazy. No. It wasn't the fact that she fell in love with said boy when he was crazy. No. And it really wasn't because she missed him. That would be absurd.

This assignment was fucking with her mind.

Their target, Eddie Marcello only came in on Thursday nights. But in order not to raise any suspicions, she had to take regular shifts like all the other waitresses.

So basically, she was living a life of a cocktail waitress. That was money well spent on her college education.

She tried not to think about it when she was working. It tended to make her very angry which in turn, made her less patient. And her job required a lot of patience.

So when a customer tried to grab her ass today, she grabbed his hand before he could do the deed and twisted his arm until his shoulder was dislocated.

It was only when she heard the pop of his humerus separating from his scapula that she realized what she was doing. She was going to be in so much trouble.

But at least she got to get out of work early. And she can finally have a good night sleep since she didn't have to think about the sleazy men she would have to face the next morning.

She was going to take a nice long walk then go back to her motel room where a bottle of cheap wine will be waiting for her. And she could catch up on some reading until early morning without worrying about showing up to work with dark circles around her eyes. It was actually nice if she didn't think about the huge possibility of getting fired.

She didn't have to tell Leland straight away. He hadn't been picking up his phone as of late. And when he did, he would cut the conversation short with excuses like a meeting or there was someone more important than her on the other line.

She was just about to curl up in her bed with 'The Restaurant at the End of the Universe' when someone knocked on her door.

"Hey, Mykes," it was Pete.

"Pete, I had a very bad day. Could this wait until tomorrow?" she asked.

"It can't," he said. "And I think it's something that can make your day a whole lot better."

She sighed. "Spit it out, Pete."

"I met someone who could help us," he said, excitedly.

"Who?"

A woman stepped into view.

"Myka, this is—"

They didn't need an introduction. "Helena Wolcott."


	2. Chapter 2

They were in a strip club, as all the others called it. When Pete told her about their plans, she didn't exactly imagine it to be this.

"I don't mind going to a male strip club," he had said. "Most of the customers are going to be ladies. I'm sure I could find one or two to take home for my own private dance."

"Our usual strip club is fine, Pete," Myka grumbled.

"How about you, Wolcott?" Pete asked. When she gave him a blank stare, he added, "I mean I'm not assuming anything here because you can totally be straight and still appreciate the female form."

That earned him a punch to his arm from Myka.

"He's asking if you're comfortable going to a strip club where the entertainment is mostly for men." Myka clarified for him.

"I don't see why not," she had said to them. "Besides, it's 2006, is it not? Surely men and women can openly share the same interests."

She didn't know then that the interest in question was the naked female body.

Myka and Pete didn't waste any time. They headed straight to the stage, took a seat that was closest to the dancer of their choice, ordered a drink and unashamedly ogled said dancers.

Strippers, they called them, if they were being crude. Exotic dancers if they cared to be polite.

"Those two, they're um…" Jon said, rubbing the back of his head. He was the only one who didn't seem too eager with the idea when it was suggested. "Let's get a booth."

Helena glanced at Myka. She was tucking a banknote in her dancer's underwear, though she didn't think its purpose was to be under anything, as the dancer leaned in to whisper something to her ear.

This Myka was different. They were all different. But the Mykas she had met were always bound by certain quite rigid rules. This one seemed a bit more flexible.

It was interesting.

"I apologize for letting them drag you here," Jon said.

"There is nothing to apologize for," she said. "If anything, I find this establishment quite amusing."

"Well, I'm glad."

He shook his glass a little, staring at the ripple his drink made. When he looked up, Helena smiled awkwardly. They hadn't spoken much to each other. All of her dealings with the three were mostly done with Pete. Myka didn't trust her. She would admit it loudly every time they met, telling her colleagues how Helena's presence was too convenient.

"I'd ask how you got into the spy business," he said, "but I think you'll just say something like, if I told you, I would have to kill you."

Helena chuckled. "Actually, I could, without having to kill you of course. But I don't think you will believe me. Maybe later, when we're drunker and everything we say is assumed to be gibberish."

The man smiled. "Drink up, then."

...

What was she doing? A stripper, a very hot stripper, just told her if she was patient enough to wait for an hour, they can do unimaginable things to each other later. Free of charge.

But Myka kept on stealing glances at Helena.

"You could bring your friend if you want," the stripper whispered to her ear.

Her name was Jewel or Silver or something to do shiny objects (her overuse of glitter definitely reflected that). Myka couldn't remember. Her attention was elsewhere. She slipped a ten in the stripper's g-string and smiled apologetically.

"I don't think she's interested," said Myka. "And, this is kind of painful to say, neither am I. Not tonight anyway."

"Whatever, honey," the stripper slowly backed away to the central pole. "Just tell me if you and your girlfriend decide to try something kinkier than her watching you watching me." She wiggled her fingers.

"She's not—" then she realized that several of the men sitting nearby were leering at her. "Look at the ladies on stage, gentlemen. That's what they're here for."

Was Helena looking at her? Myka glanced for the hundredth time since the last hour. She wasn't. It looked like she was having a lot of fun with Jon. Laughing and downing drink after drink. More like buddies than two people flirting with one another. Besides, Jon had a fiancé. So there was no way—

Again with that. It was like Helena had taken over her mind these past few days. Mostly about how she could screw them over. So far, all her intel was solid. Pete and Jon thought it couldn't hurt to work with her. The progress they had made on the case was more than what they had been doing the past year.

Myka couldn't disagree but it didn't stop her from racking her brain trying to find the possible ways Helena can employ to ruin their investigation. They had to be prepared somehow.

But slipping in and out between those thoughts were stupid thoughts like, 'What kind of food does she eat for breakfast?' or 'Tea or coffee?' or 'Does she cook?' They came at random and sometimes inconvenient times.

Like now, when she was supposed to be staring at jiggling tits and firm asses to take her mind of, yes, Helena. Instead, she was thinking if Jon and Helena had anything in common and how loyal was Jon to his fiancé even though she knew Jon wouldn't cheat on her. Even catching a glimpse of another woman's breast made him feel guilty. That was why he hated it every time she and Pete wanted to go to a strip club.

That was how people should think. Based on verifiable information and arranging that information in a clear sequence to reach a logical conclusion. Not based on some gut feeling.

Maybe it worked for Pete. And good for him because it can be handy sometimes. But she wasn't Pete.

She had her own ways of reading people. And her gut had nothing to do with it.

...

She and Jon were having a conversation when Myka came over to their booth. Then she proceeded to whisper some very titillating propositions to her ear.

Helena was quite ashamed to have such weak resolve.

She didn't have a reason to be secretive with Myka. But she acted mysterious anyway, dodging certain questions and claiming they were sensitive information. It was how Myka treated her the last time and she thought it was well deserved. Besides, it was amusing. But it didn't take much to make her crumble apparently. With only a few sentences, she was putty in Myka's hands. It reminded her of the strength in words.

"Jon, do you mind looking after Pete?" Myka asked as Helena tried to maintain her composure. "You know how he gets when he's drunk."

"Sure. But where are you going?" asked Jon.

"A little sightseeing with Agent Wolcott here," Myka said. "This is your first time in Vegas, right?"

Helena had said yes. And she knew very well that she wasn't accepting an invitation to a tour along the Strip.

"I wish our motel isn't so far away," Myka said as she tried to hail a taxicab.

It gave her an idea which she thought was brilliant at the time.

"We could get a room at a hotel nearby."

"The hotels around here cost eighty bucks a night and that is for their cheapest rooms, if," Myka stressed, "those rooms haven't sold out yet."

Helena raised an eyebrow. "And how much money did you spend on that lovely girl you had been gawking at for the past hour?"

Myka smiled sheepishly. "Well, if we split the cost..."

"Let's go."

But Myka was right. All of the rooms within her price range were gone.

"I'm afraid the only rooms we have are our suites," said the hotel manager.

"Do you want to try a different hotel?" Helena asked Myka.

Myka sighed. "I think it'll be cheaper and quicker if we get a cab. It's a weekend. It won't be any different anywhere."

Helena looked at the manager.

"Have you decided?" he asked.

"We'll take a suite," Helena said, ignoring Myka's suggestion.

MacPherson gave her this plastic card that seemed to work like money, only it was returned every time she used it. He also mentioned something about credit limit but she wasn't sure what that meant so she ignored it.

"Excuse us for a second," Myka said, smiling tightly to the manager. "Are you crazy?" she whispered. "That suite costs one thousand a night."

That was a lot, even if converted in pounds. But it didn't seem to bother Helena. She might not be able to physically hurt MacPherson but this could at least hurt him financially (if her assumptions on how the card worked were true).

"The MI6 is quite charitable regarding their agents' expenses," she said. "Don't worry about it."

It seemed she was full of bright ideas tonight. Until they dimmed exceptionally fast to darkness.

They started kissing as soon as they entered the suite. She made some witty joke about which room they were going to defile. They wordlessly agreed on the living room as they weren't patient enough to walk the ten feet towards the nearest bedroom.

She thought everything was going well until suddenly Myka pushed her away. She mumbled something. Helena couldn't quite make out what it was.

"What's wrong?" Helena asked.

Myka looked as if she just saw a ghost. She backed away from Helena while grabbing whatever item of clothing her hand could reach. She then covered her body. Helena looked around to make sure she wasn't missing anything and found nothing. It was her. She was the ghost.

Helena moved forward to touch her but Myka backed away further.

"H…" her breath hitched. "H.G.?"

...

It was not what she planned.

She thought Helena was drunk from the number of empty glasses on the table. Her tongue was probably looser. Myka figured she just needed a little bit of incentive to spill out her secrets.

She had never done it before. Seducing truths out of suspects. Mostly because she got all squeamish just thinking about it. But Helena, despite her distrust towards the woman, was a goddess so the issue of nausea was not a problem.

They were supposed to make out a little in the backseat of a taxi. Helena was going to tell her everything during the twenty minute ride. And she was going to slam the door on her face when they got to the motel. Or arrest her depending on what her answers were.

But of course she couldn't get a single taxi. Then Helena suggested that they find a hotel nearby. She wasn't worried as she knew all of the hotels around were probably full except for some insanely expensive suites. Her plan can still be executed.

They went to three different hotels before Myka suggested they just go back to their motel. She didn't want to seem too eager. But then Helena offered to pay for a suite.

She refused. Helena insisted. She refused again but Helena was being stubborn. It didn't take long before it turned into a full blown argument. She remembered feeling so furious and she had this urgent desire to strangle Helena. That brought her eyes to Helena's neck. Down to her collarbones and further down, they found…other things which were quite enticing.

Myka stepped forward suddenly, surprising Helena into silence. She didn't know what possessed her. She reasoned later as she tried to insert the damn key card while Helena was being very distracting that it was the strippers. All that staring without anything happening. She was bound to feel a little horny.

She smirked as she realized that she just caught Helena off guard. But that satisfaction wore off quickly as Helena regained her composure. Her lips quirked up as well and she saw the familiar little smile that both annoyed her and made her knees weak.

At this point, everyone was staring at them. It was one of those hotels where tourists come like it's a fucking museum. Fellagio? Bellatio? Fellatio? That didn't sound right. She cursed Pete. He probably told some inappropriate joke about the name and instead of remembering the hotel's real name, her brain decided to pick up the inappropriate part of the joke.

But it didn't matter that people were staring. She and Helena were having a staring contest of their own. They were too stubborn to make the first move. So they both waited for what felt like hours. But to the bystanders, it was only six seconds.

Myka swore she was not the one who leaned forward first. But that would bring about another argument which they were too busy to have at the moment.

It was the little things that made her notice. Like how Helena hooked her finger on the opening between Myka's buttons. The way her right hand couldn't stay at one place as they were kissing. How she licked her lips when she was nervous.

Myka tried to ignore them but her overactive mind couldn't let it go. It continued processing the information. And when it finally reached a conclusion, she couldn't believe it. How could she? It was impossible.

It was a scary thought. It meant she can't trust her sight. And she always believed in what she saw. They were a great source of evidence.

She felt herself trembling. She couldn't say his name. The first time, she blurted it out unknowingly. It was harder the second time because now, it wasn't just a random thought. Saying it out loud meant she admitted the possibility that he was real. And all those years of trying to decimate the memory of him will be a huge waste.

She wished she was wrong. She even prayed for it. But the only way to know for sure was to ask this person in front of her, whoever she might be.

It only had two syllables and yet she stumbled on the first. She tried again. Her voice lacked its usual confidence. But then again, it was to be expected. Her sanity depended on the answer.

"How did you know?" Helena asked, no longer trying to get closer to her.

She cursed loudly. "Now I know I'm crazy."

"No," said Helena quickly. "Actually, no. I have no idea what you were talking about. I tend to do that," she rambled on, "I blurt out things when I'm caught off—"

"Now I know you're a liar," Myka cut her off. Did she say that out loud? Her thought process was in chaos. She can't think properly. "I'm either insane or you're a liar," she said to no one in particular. Or maybe herself. Or Helena. Or both.

Helena seemed to notice this bemused state she was in as she took another careful step forward. Myka didn't back away this time. But her eyes remained fixed on Helena.

"You're a super creepy stalker. Yes. That's why you knew. What else do you have on me? My crush on Kurt Smoller?" Myka continued.

"I didn't know that," Helena said, smiling a little.

"What's so funny?" Myka snapped.

"It's just…Kurt Smoller thinks 'two pi r' is an invitation to say awesome instead of the circumference of a circle. I still don't know whether I should be baffled about his bad grammar or his lack of basic mathematical knowledge."

Myka chuckled. This wasn't the time but still, she found herself reminiscing about the boy. "Shut up. He's sweet," she said, her cautious eyes softened to show a slight affection.

"They say he's fine now but I think there's still something wrong with him," he had said to her suddenly during one of their tutoring sessions, "or he wouldn't be pretending like you don't exist. You're not like any other girl in this school, you know."

She had responded to that with a chuckle and some self-deprecating comment.

He didn't laugh. His eyes stayed on his book. "You kind of scare me. You know about a lot of things and you care about important stuff I don't understand. It always feels like you're way ahead of any of us. So, Dylan," she finally remembered his name, "is really stupid for letting you go. Actually," he chuckled, "that explains why he can't tutor me anymore."

That made her laugh, genuinely. It was around that time she developed a crush on him. And it made it easier to forget H.G. when she fixated on him.

"I think he liked you," Myka said fondly. But upon realizing what she just said, she started panicking again. It didn't help that Helena was now only inches away from her. "Oh my god, I really am crazy."

She hugged her knees tighter as if it could protect her from Helena.

"Oh, love," Helena spoke softly. She knelt down. "I assure you, that is not the case. It is a little hard to explain but you're not wrong. It is me."

"Of course you'd say that. You're my delusion."

Helena's hands moved cautiously over Myka's on each side of her thighs. She covered them when Myka did not move.

"I cannot remove your fears but I can face them with you," her voice was soothing. She had used the same gentle voice, the exact words.

Myka almost believed her. "Doesn't mean anything. You're in my head."

"We can call Pete. I can explain everything to the both of you. Then you will know that someone else heard the exact same thing and it isn't your mind playing games with you."

"Drunk Pete is the last person I'll believe."

"How about Jon?"

"Jon will flip."

"Not the way Pete won't?" asked Helena.

Myka didn't respond. Maybe if she treated him, her, no, it (there was no use in humanizing it) like it didn't exist, then it will go away.

But it made its presence known by clutching on her hands.

"Myka," it called to her.

She had already closed her eyes. Maybe if she covered her ears—

It took that opportunity to grab hold of her wrists. Myka pushed but it continued pulling her close. Finally, it let go but only to have its arms around her. They were strong. She pushed again. There was a gasp but it held on tight. She wondered if an illusion can feel pain. Maybe it was an indication. But maybe it was faking.

Its body was warm. It had this fruity smell, like a kid's shampoo. She could feel small quantities of air blowing against her neck steadily. It was breathing. Myka found herself becoming less and less resistant. She opened her eyes. It still had a face.

Dark eyes. Pale skin. Full lips.

Myka stopped fighting. She knew it had a pulse. She felt it when it grabbed on to her wrists. She placed her ear on its chest.

"What…what are you doing?" it asked.

It had a heart. No. _She_ had a heart. It was hard not to miss her womanly curves.

Full lips. Painted red. Tempting her. His were always chapped.

Myka looked into those dark brown eyes. His were blue.

She held her hair. They were soft. His was straw like. And blond.

The funny thing was no matter how much she tried to disprove herself, she ended up convincing herself more. That scared her. Her thoughts became all jumbled up, confusing her.

But once she accepted it, it became easier to think clearly. She thought back to the things he claimed to be. How awkward he was as a boy. And when he rejected her completely after he got better (according to everyone else), she just knew it wasn't him. She knew it all along when he appeared before her with the same arrogance and the constant glint of mischief in her eyes accompanied by that annoying smile.

Nevertheless, old habits die hard. Myka had to make sure that one, she was really human and two, this familiarity will not go away.

And sure enough, H.G. passed both tests excellently.


	3. Chapter 3

She woke up on an empty bed. She wasn't sure if she dreamed all of the things that happened last night.

She reached around. The room was darker than usual. Her thin curtains never did much to filter sunlight. She knew it was morning, maybe even noon since they stayed up the whole night.

The bed was bigger. Possibly king sized. The sheets were softer. And when she bounced on it, the springs did not screech.

She was still in the suite.

But where was Helena?

She closed her eyes again. The sleepiness still lingered. Maybe when she wakes up, she will just order lots of room service and rack up Helena's credit card bill as revenge.

Myka believed her but it didn't mean she trusted her. They were teenagers then. People change.

She liked her. That much she knew. They stayed up the whole night talking. Helena told her about her daughter, Christina. She explained how, yes, she didn't have a choice in going back but she also needed to return to her time anyway because of her daughter.

"Does this mean you'll have to leave again?" Myka had asked.

"I don't know," was her answer.

She didn't ask further as it seemed like a sensitive subject. She saw the irony in it. Only a few hours ago they were completely naked together (while she sort of had a meltdown) and yet, Myka did not dare to broach such a private matter.

Instead, she asked, "Why didn't you tell me about her?"

"I didn't think you would accept it very well," said Helena.

"Seriously? Because you didn't have a problem telling me you were a time traveler."

Helena chuckled. "Nothing escapes you, does it?" She sighed. "Truthfully, I was eighteen and I haven't had a good night sleep for months. I thought my life has ended and I desperately wanted to escape. Then I did and there you were."

"There I was?"

"Yes, there you were. With your crazy curls and thick glasses. You always had an answer to all my questions. You were so lonely and yet you did not compromise on who you were just to fit in." She smiled. "That is a rare quality in all times. You made me feel like my life was just beginning. I couldn't fathom a different life. So I pretended like those memories were fake and I was partly mad."

"But you weren't."

"Exactly. Do you remember that time when you brought me to your father's bookstore?"

Myka nodded. It was one of those days she tried hard to forget but never could.

She didn't think her father would be around that day. Only David, the bookstore's one and only employee. He was always high so she wasn't worried about him telling on her.

They did start out looking at books. But as teenage hormones go, that didn't last too long. And with the tall shelves hiding them from David's view, things got a little heated which did not go well with her father when he returned early from his important meeting.

He didn't say anything. He didn't ask. He just slapped her across her face.

"I am very disappointed in you," he said before he stormed out of the shop.

"He only saw your faults. He was so blinded by his expectations that he didn't see how amazing you were," said Helena, "whereas I was too deep in my regret and shame that I forgot that moment when I first met Christina, the way she tugged on my hair the same way she tugged on my heart. Some nights I would listen to that god awful music you call stone just to fall asleep because I was so used to Christina's cries. That was when I consciously decided to go back. But I didn't expect my wish to be fulfilled so soon."

"You couldn't have known."

"I couldn't even remember you when I returned. But sometimes, I would dream of you."

"So I was the girl of your dreams," Myka said, trying to lighten the mood. "Am I still?"

"Love," Helena said, "you deserve more than a place in my dreams."

...

"What can I get you?"

Helena looked at the menu. She had no idea.

"Miss?"

"You don't happen to know what a beautiful vixen with the most captivating green eyes you have ever seen and a lovely smile would like, do you?" she asked. She had to try somehow.

The boy behind the cash register opened his mouth and then closed it again.

"Coffee?" he asked.

"Oh, you have those?" Finally. Something she was familiar with.

"Yep," the boy said.

"Great. One coffee and a tea, please."

She picked up two muffins and paid.

She didn't really want to leave. But she was hungry and she didn't have the heart to wake Myka up. She needed the rest after last night. Helena wished it was due to certain physical activities but it was not. It was more of an emotional exhaustion. And she was not sure how Myka would react to waking up on a bed with her. It was a bit of a whirlwind last night. She could use the quiet time before the screaming and the crying commence again.

On her way to the cafe, she came across some brochures. It turned out that gambling and scantily clad women were not the only entertainment in Vegas. In fact, Bellagio, this very hotel she was in, was famous for its water show. She wondered if Myka knew about this. She had a feeling that Myka was not very fond of Vegas. Clearly, Myka had never seen or heard of this remarkable water fountain because if she had, she would have been less surly and more excited to be living here.

Helena carefully balanced the drinks in her hands and the paper bag containing the muffins in her arm while slowly opening the door. She did not want to make any noises that could wake Myka up.

"I thought you were gone."

She turned around. Myka's eyes were only half open.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," she said.

"I was already awake," Myka said, rubbing her eyes. "I just didn't get out of bed until you came in. Are those coffee?"

"This is coffee," Helena raised the cup in her right hand. "And it is for me. Yours is tea."

Myka whined, "I wannmacoffee."

Helena chuckled.

Myka exclaimed, "You were messing with me!"

"Oh, look," Helena said. "She's wide awake."

Myka took a step forward. Helena could see that she was getting ready to pounce for her caffeine.

"Let me remind you that I am holding scalding hot beverages in both hands. They might spill on my face."

"If you put them down, everything will be fine," said Myka.

"So your coffee is more important than my face?"

"Babe," Myka said, a smile playing on her lips. "I think we know that I'll love you no matter how you look."

Helena could never understand the usage of the word 'babe' to call one's lover. It sounded pedophilic to her. Myka seemed to share her opinion on this as she had a horrified look on her face. Then Helena realized it was more likely due to Myka's accidental declaration of love for her.

She placed the cups and the bag on the coffee table.

"It happens," she said. "You don't have to mean it."

She understood it well, not wanting to admit…whatever this is. See, she still had trouble with it even in her head. They were no longer teenagers. The notion of love was different than it used to be.

...

Helena didn't suspect it at all. She came rushing as soon as Myka jutted out of her lips. That and coupled with her Bambi eyes had always been H.G.'s weakness.

She didn't notice it when Myka had subtly turned her around in order to be closer to the coffee table. And when she folded her arms and stepped back, Helena looked hurt. Myka almost felt bad for her.

That was until she sipped what she thought was coffee, expecting to taste victory. Instead, she tasted…tea.

By then, Helena was already in possession of the real coffee. She had that annoying smirk on her face.

"Please don't make me beg," Myka said.

"You don't need to," said Helena. Myka almost squealed in delight but then she realized that Helena was not finished. "Remember last night when you told Jon that we were going sightseeing?" Myka didn't like where this was going. "Well, I thought we should really do it."

"But you've seen Vegas. You've been here for a week."

"Stalking strangers is not the same as enjoying the sights. Do you know that there is a light show at Fremont Street?" Helena was beaming. "The idea of color television is still mind-boggling to me and today, I found out that there is a massive one that spans 1500 feet nearby. We have to see it."

Myka purposefully sighed. She wanted to let Helena know that this was a giant favor. She just hated Vegas so much. Everything about it.

"Aren't you tired?" she asked. "Did you even sleep last night?"

"This body has been asleep for ages," Helena told her. Myka had wondered about that, how Helena was in her own body this time. She should ask about it later. "It isn't so fond of sleep."

She looked so excited. Myka couldn't say no.

"Give me the coffee."

...

So far they had seen the volcano at the Mirage, they had roamed around the Venetian where they took a picture with a creepy tall lady in white and they watched the light show that was just random pictures flowing along the ceiling.

Pete was with them. He had a car. Myka wasn't really up for walking. She also could have just borrowed it from him but she didn't want to be wasting time looking for parking. All these places Helena wanted to go were places Myka usually avoided due to their crowdedness.

They didn't go out until about seven. Helena fell asleep when Myka was in the shower and slept for another three hours after Myka was done. She told Pete to come over so they could do some work.

"Did you win the jackpot or something?" Pete asked when he entered the suite.

"Nope," she replied. "Apparently this is how MI-6 agents roll."

"Really? Where do I sign up?"

"I think first and foremost, you need to be a British citizen," Myka told him. "Try the CIA."

"I will send my application tomorrow." He looked to the closed bedroom door, "Speaking of Helena, is she still around?"

"She's sleeping."

"Wore her down, di—" Myka had stopped listening. She was looking at the surveillance pictures. There was something odd in all of them but she couldn't put her finger on it.

She had the same feeling when they were at the Mirage, the Venetian, and Fremont Street.

When they returned to the Bellagio to watch the water fountain show, she finally got it.

There was a couple. They squeezed next to her, pushing her closer to Helena.

Helena covered her hand on top of the banister and intertwined their fingers. It was almost like they had done this a million times. Technically, they had. It was just a different hand before. So it felt new and strange.

They had been waiting for almost fifteen minutes. The show had not started yet.

"The brochure says it starts every fifteen minutes," Helena complained. "It has been fifteen minutes."

"Sometimes, they start a little later," the woman kindly informed them.

"Do you go here often?" Myka asked.

"Oh, every night," the woman said. "We can't get enough of it."

"So are you on your honeymoon?"

"Initially, yes," said the woman, all smiles and wiggling her ring finger at Myka to show off her wedding ring with a very big and, Myka guessed, very expensive diamond on it. "But Chris," the husband waved, "won pretty big at the slot machine. We figured we have been having so much fun here so we decided to stay for good."

Then it hit her.

"Have we met before?" Myka asked to be sure.

"I knew it," the husband said. "You work at the Stratosphere, right?"

"I used to work there," Myka said.

"Is she the cocktail waitress?" the wife looked at her husband pointedly.

"No, I-I don't," he stuttered, "I don't know. See honey, that's how unmemorable she is." That could have been good enough except he was pointing at Myka. You can't know someone you don't remember.

The wife turned to Myka, glared at her and left in a huff. She was then followed by her husband but not before he winked at her first.

"Bastard," she muttered. "It's weird," she said to Helena. "I feel like I keep running into the same people."

"It's umm…" Helena didn't finish her sentence. She squeezed Myka's hand. "Something is happening."

Myka looked at the lake. The water is being drained. Fast. She can see the nozzles coming out. The light illuminating the hotel changed colors. _Luck Be a Lady_ started playing. Then water started shooting up about 100 feet high. It could be higher but she didn't think to get her ruler out to make sure.

They really were not kidding when they said that they make the water dance.

But she was not as amazed by it as H.G. was. H.G. had been vomiting facts about the attractions they went to all evening.

"Do you know that the Viva Vision Canopy has 12 million LED modules in them? LED is—"

"Everyone knows what an LED is."

"Great. It can also display 16.7 million color combinations."

"Those are not actually lava flows. They put glass in there and shine a light on it to give that effect."

It reminded her of how it used to be. H.G.'s amusement with technology was one of things she loved about her. She would teach H.G. about some gadget. H.G. would pick it up very fast and before she knew it, H.G. was attempting to build one herself. A lot of the Smiths' appliances became her victim.

Myka remembered how she once had an idea that was similar to the LCD display. When she figured out how a television worked, she said, "Instead of having this massive tube at the back, what if we use white light and have these little filters to control the colors that come out? I have to figure out what kind of lamp to use and how to make very small filters but it should work."

She was talking about the nozzles now.

Myka really didn't care about the nozzles. But she nodded like the engineering behind the water fountain fascinated her, all the while she was staring at H.G. and never once glanced at the oh-so-fascinating dancing water in front of her.

"The most powerful nozzles blast the water up to four hundred and sixt—" she kissed her H.G. at the corner of her lips.

There was a frown that quickly went away and H.G. turned to face her and properly kissed her back.

...

She was starting to forget. MacPherson had warned her about this.

When she woke up, it was already dusk. She didn't reach for her locket as she usually did.

She only remembered when they were on a gondola at the Venetian. She did not care much for it. She had been to Venice. In fact, when she returned to her time, she could go there any time she wanted.

She wanted to see something, what do they say nowadays? Cool. Yes, something cool. Something she had never seen before. Preferably something that reflected how far technology had advanced.

She admitted that all these attractions were quite excessive. They were just there, serving no purpose other than entertainment. She always thought of science as something more serious and useful. Something that was not just a pretty sight.

But all of this was temporary. So there was no harm in enjoying the sights and trying to figure out how these modern day miracles worked. It also didn't hurt that she got to spend time with Myka. And Pete. But he stayed in the car most of time so he was not much of a bother. She wasn't sure what exactly he meant but he told them he had seen the attractions too many times when he was picking up tourist chicks. She hoped it didn't mean Pete was a serial kidnapper.

It slipped her mind again soon after they left the Venetian.

But she was reminded again about it when Myka was talking to the young couple standing next to her. Myka had started noticing it. Helena was about to tell her all about it but then she got distracted by the water fountain. She thought that she could delay it for a little while.

The entire time when she was watching the show, she felt Myka's eyes on her. It made her nervous so she kept spouting out facts like she had been doing all night. Then Myka smiled like she just said something really interesting. So she went on and on like an idiot.

It turned out that Myka's fascination was not with her vast knowledge of Las Vegas' many attractions. She realized this when she felt Myka's lips on her.

She felt a bit cheated. Here she was, telling Myka these great things about the inner workings of the fountain, thinking Myka was truly fascinated when clearly Myka had not been listening at all.

"You don't care about the nozzles, do you?" she asked.

Myka chuckled and shook her head.

That was when she decided she no longer cared either. So she pulled Myka closer towards her and pressed her lips against Myka's.

She really missed her. She rarely admitted it even to herself because she was supposed to miss one and only person but she had missed her so much.

She had known a younger Myka and an older Myka. And this Myka who was a little messy and scattered. She liked the two Mykas she had previously met. She liked this one too.

That was what she had been telling herself all this time. She only 'liked' Myka because how was it possible to feel so strongly for someone she had only known for about two weeks? Two weeks. That was the time they had spent together combined.

As if sensing her inner turmoil, Myka suddenly drew back.

"I think," Myka said. "I think I'm still in love with you."

That was how. Except Myka was braver than her. She had the courage to say it out loud. Even if it lacked certainty.

Helena was wrong to try to rationalize it. It did not follow the logic she was used to. It could only make sense if she shifted her way of thinking. In this age, everything was relative. Even in Physics that was always thought to be absolute in her time had concepts that involved relativity and uncertainty.

She had an idea.

Her stomach flipped. It never liked it when she had a new idea. Her new ideas were generally bad. They had led to many explosions. But without these bad ideas, she couldn't refine them into great inventions.

Except this idea cannot be refined. It either succeeds or fails. There was no repeating this experiment.

"Do you know that one of the three most thriving businesses in this city is the wedding chapel business?"

"Wow," said Myka, her disappointment was evident, "I've never heard that one before. Especially not after I just told someone that I'm in love with them."

"No, I meant," it didn't matter. She apologized. "I should have been more direct with you."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm herself down. It didn't really work.

"What I actually want to ask is," her pulse was racing, "will you marry me?"


	4. Chapter 4

It was their twentieth anniversary today. They were celebrating it by getting married which was funny because she thought they were already married.

She said yes when Helena proposed to her in front of the Bellagio fountain twenty years ago. Her wife couldn't have just asked her for a date. Instead, she proposed to Myka. That was her H.G., always doing things in some grand way.

They wanted something to bind them together before Helena left. Not the certificate from the Chapel of Love commemorating their commitment ceremony. But their vows to each other as they were wed by an Elvis impersonator. An eternal promise.

But when Helena did not disappear after a year had passed, it caused a strain on their relationship.

It wasn't that they could not stand each other. It was the opposite. Each day, Myka found herself becoming more and more in love with Helena but each morning, she would wake up with a sinking feeling that today was the day that Helena was going to leave her.

On the morning of their one year anniversary, Helena wanted to surprise her with breakfast in bed. But Helena's cooking was atrocious so she went out to get a professional to make it for her.

Myka woke up a little early that day for some reason and when she saw Helena wasn't in bed with her, she panicked. She looked for Helena all over the apartment, even in the drawers where Helena could not possibly fit into.

When Helena came home, she found Myka curled up on the living room floor, tears streaming out of her eyes.

"I can't wait for you anymore," she had said to Helena.

"But I'm here, love," Helena told her.

"No, I can't keep waiting for you to leave."

It took Helena about a year and a half to convince her that she was staying for good. And every single day since then, Helena never left their bed before her in the morning, even if it meant being late to work because Myka overslept.

The state of Nevada legalized same sex marriage ten years ago but she never thought about it until their eight year old daughter told them to.

"You should get married," little Kate said during dinner two months ago.

"Yeah, why aren't you?" Max, their eldest asked.

"Ask your mother," Helena told them. "I was the one who proposed last time."

They all turned to her.

"Are you saying it's my fault that we're not married?"

"Yes," they said simultaneously.

She laughed. They planned this. She knew because they all had that smile. The one they have when they think they're doing something clever.

She shook her head and said, "Fine. Helena Wells, will you marry me?"

Helena dramatically sighed in relief causing Kate to giggle. "Finally!" she exclaimed. "And because I've been waiting for so long," Kate giggled harder, "that lazy proposal will do."

"Like yours was so special," Myka muttered. "So is that a yes?"

"Yes," Helena said.

"Yes!" Kate squealed.

Even too-cool-for-anything Max was grinning like an idiot.

And that was how they got "engaged".

...

Pete had been having the same bad feeling for over twenty years. That was why he was drunk all the time. Today was the first time in years that he will be sober.

Helena was not sure if that was the best course of action. A drunk Pete was actually more bearable than a sober Pete. Drunk Pete does not tackle people for no apparent reason. Or destroy random objects because it looked "funny". It was a good thing that he no longer had a gun or Helena would have to worry about that too.

Her opinions and feelings regarding Pete were complicated to say the least. Myka, however, loved him. The children loved him too. She can't keep him out of their lives. When Pete told Myka about his decision to be sober on their wedding day, Myka was so happy. She had been trying to get him to an AA meeting for ages.

She thought it would be a great first step for Pete in getting sober. But Helena knew better. When you have that kind of burden settling on you, imaginary or otherwise, life feels like trudging through quicksand. Except you never drown even though it keeps pulling on you.

Helena was lucky to have found Myka. Or she would have been worse than Pete. Unlike Pete, alcohol did very little in making her forget.

It was her plans that gave her a peace of mind. Working in a place where miracles happen, it was not hard to come up with infinite ways to bring Christina back. If she hadn't found Myka, any of those plans could have been executed. And they all had dangerous consequences. She imagined the world would have turned out very differently if she hadn't stayed in this time.

She was very aware of her unstable mental state. Even now, she still feared it. That was why she never attempted to make contact with Warehouse 13.

There was a knock on the door. Before she could even answer, the door opened. It was Pete.

"Could you tell Jon to stop following me?" he said.

To Helena's surprise, he looked fine. She had expected a missed button or a crooked tie or maybe a stain on his shirt. There was none. His shirt was ironed. His hair was in order. His face was clean-shaven. He actually looked great.

She went to him and smelled his breath.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed. "We've talked about this before. I won't do either you or Myka. It must be a threesome so no one is cheating on anyone."

"You're not drunk," she said.

"Of course I'm not," he said. "I promised, didn't I?"

"No bad vibes?"

"Does it matter?" he asked. "The point is I'm sober and I'm not going to attack anyone. So get Jon to back off."

"Fine," she lied.

"Great," he said. Then he hugged her. "I know you don't like me so thank you for including me in this."

She really did not have a choice in the matter but she appreciated his gesture. She patted his back twice before he let go.

"No vibes," she warned him.

"I won't even mention it."

She could see how sincere he was as he said it. She almost believed him. But more than a century ago, she had fooled her colleagues into believing that she was perfectly sane. Then she bolted off to the future and never came back. She made a mental note to tell Jon to be more discrete.

...

He had an idea. He should have known better. He rarely came up with good ones. And today wasn't an exception.

He wanted to be sober for Myka. It's like a wedding present. And not because he was cheap. He bought her something nice that she'd probably punch him for later. But the point is, it wasn't cheap. So this being sober for a day was not one of those, the thought that counts kind of thing. It's not like he didn't have the money. Money seemed to be growing on trees these past twenty years. Well, casino tree money. And the casinos didn't seem to care. He thought they would have blacklisted him by now. But here he was, twenty years later, still robbing them blind.

Money was easy. So a physical gift wasn't a big deal. Heck, he bought Max a motorcycle for his last birthday. Too bad it was collecting dust in Pete's garage because apparently motorcycles can cut people in half or something. Myka and H.G. saw it on some Youtube video. He felt bad for the kid, having two moms. Not that every kid has to have one mom and one dad. It's more because moms tend to worry so much more expressively. He could barely handle his own. Imagine if there were two of her.

He thought it would be more meaningful if he promised Myka that he would be sober on her wedding day. And he was a man of his word, sometimes. It was hard to tell because he barely remembered the last 24 hours, let alone the promises he made. But this promise was kind of hard to forget because Myka had been reminding him every day for the past week.

He remembered the look of panic on H.G.'s face when he told them about it. It was hilarious. He can practically see the wheels turning in her head. The contingency plans she was setting up in her head. She probably had some glass case that said, "Break in case of Pete emergency" somewhere.

But it was probably a good thing because right now, he felt like he was about to explode. Just a few more minutes, Pete. Hold it together. He told himself.

H.G. was saying her vow. Sweet, heartfelt words, he was sure. But he can't hear any of it because all he wanted to do was tear apart the whole church to find whatever it was that was making him feel this way.

His vibes were mostly right before. Before twenty years ago. Then something happened. He was so sure that he broke his cover. Flashed his badge at the manager and told him there was a bomb. He didn't know for sure but there was something as bad somewhere in the hotel. He evacuated the whole building, turned the hotel upside down and found nothing.

He was fired after that.

The bad vibe never really went away even with alcohol but it was easier to not jump someone when you can barely stand. He was grateful to have Myka and her family in his lives. When he was with them, he got good vibes. On top of the bad vibe. But still, it was better.

She looked at the brides. Myka was wearing a suit and H.G. was wearing a dress. They flipped a coin to decide that. Neither one of them wanted to be bridezilla so instead of losing their minds trying to decide between beige and beige, they made every decision by flipping a coin.

It was Myka's turn to say her vow.

"I met you when I was sixteen," Myka said to H.G., "and immediately I knew that this is it. This is the person I have been waiting for all my life. I did a little bit more waiting," she smiled, "but now I got you and I intend to keep you. This is all part of my evil plan to trap you with me forever."

"Even the children?" H.G. asked.

"Even the children," Myka nodded, glancing at Max and Kate who were sharing an indignant look and a smile that was trying to hide itself at the corners of their lips. "And looks like it's working. So now it's up to you, pastor to seal the deal."

The minister laughed and said, "Now I pronounce you wife and wife. You may both kiss each other."

And there it was, the good vibe or it could just be happiness for his friend. He couldn't tell the difference anymore. For a moment, the bad vibe receded and for the first time in the last twenty years, he was able to be in the present entirely.

They kissed and he realized that being sober on this day was a good idea after all.

...

Ten seconds later, he was vomiting outside the church.

"Jon, it's creepy," he said between spewing out his stomach's content.

Jon appeared behind him.

"You okay?" Jon asked.

"You can't tell Myka and H.G. about this," he said. "Myka's going to freak and H.G.'s going to get mad. Then they'll send everyone home. It's supposed to be a happy day for them and we're not going to ruin it."

"Too late," Jon said.

"What happened?" he heard H.G.'s voice asking.

"Just a bad burrito," he said. "Nothing to worry about."

"It's a vibe, isn't it?" H.G. asked. "Damn it, Pete!"

"I tried, okay?" Pete yelled at her. "I ironed my clothes. I showered. Sprayed cologne on myself. I even put stuff on my hair. I tried…"

She didn't like him but it didn't mean she didn't care.

"Do you want to go to a hospital?" she asked. "You look pretty bad."

"No," he said. "What I need is to talk to you. Jon, do you mind?"

Jon nodded and left.

"I know about where, no, when you came from," Pete said when Jon was out of earshot.

"Myka told you," H.G. said. She seemed to take it well. He had expected a little surprise on her part.

"So how is that not crazier than my vibes?" he asked her.

"Oh, it is crazy," she said. "But it is also true."

"Well, my vibes are…eighty percent accurate."

"Maybe this is the twenty percent."

"Do you see me? I'm a mess. A wrong vibe does not do that to me. A wrong vibe goes away."

"I can't do this today," H.G. said.

"Okay, maybe you can't trust my vibe. But how about this? Why are you still here? Me, I belong here. But you guys should be living somewhere nice like Florida."

"Florida?" she laughed dryly.

"Okay, maybe not Florida. Someplace else then. Some place that is not here. Myka doesn't even like Vegas. She hates everything about it. The sex everywhere. People carelessly throwing money like it's just paper. People doing stupid things that they otherwise wouldn't do in any other place. The tourists."

"We live in a suburb," she muttered quietly.

"Have you even traveled outside of Vegas before? America is huge, you know. And I picture you as a pretty adventurous person, not some—"

"Stop!" H.G. exclaimed suddenly. "I just got married to the love of my life. I am happy. Why must you ruin it?"

For the first time since Pete had known her, he saw fear in her eyes. He almost couldn't do it but it meant she was listening to him. It meant she knew something was wrong. It meant she was starting to believe him.

"You know why," he said. "Tomorrow, I'm going to drink myself to oblivion. You're going to live happily ever after with your family. And we'll forget this conversation ever happened."

"Don't say it," she warned him.

He didn't. He was as scared of it as her.

But someone else said it for them.

"It's not real."

They both turned to the voice. It was Myka.

...

"I've been," her voice was shaking, "I've been thinking about it. Pete's not that lucky. Helena, I love you, but you're not this boring. And I haven't talked to my parents in twenty years."

"Darling," Helena said. "That was because they couldn't except that you are in the relationship with a woman."

"Really?" Myka asked. "Because I don't remember an argument. Of course they're going to freak out at the beginning but I don't remember fighting to make them understand. We just grew apart in silence."

"But your relationship with your parents is not that good anyway," Pete said.

"I know," Myka said, "but the other day, I wanted to call my parents to invite them to my wedding and I couldn't."

Helena reached for her hand and squeezed it. "It is not that easy to reconnect with people you haven't talked to in years."

"No, you don't understand," Myka said. "Every time I wanted to call them, the phone rang and when I was done, I completely forgot about it."

"Maybe you're avoiding it subconsciously?" Pete asked.

Both Helena and Pete really did not want believe it. It was weird because five seconds ago, they were talking about it and now that someone said it out loud, they can't seem to grasp the idea. It was like they had all the right dots but they were incapable of connecting them.

"Tell me, Pete," she said. "When was the last time you talked to your mother?"

"That's easy," he said. "It was…" He can't remember because it was a very long time ago, more specifically, twenty years ago.

That was when it all began. Actually, before that. But it wasn't until Helena's proposal when it escalated.

Jon broke off his engagement. Pete's drinking got worse. Their investigation fizzled and no one seemed to care. And she could never reach Leland. When Pete got fired, she and Jon were fired as well except it was never made official. No orders to return to D.C. No official letter terminating their service as Secret Service agents. And they were not the least bit concerned about it. They were too preoccupied with their personal lives to notice that their jobs were taken away quietly from them.

Things became weirder after when everything seemed to fall into place easily. She got a job at a security company. Pete kept winning at casinos all over the city. Helena became a teacher at a local high school. And Jon bought a strip club. She still didn't know how he got the money for that.

They all seemed to be living the lives they wanted without any kind of hardships. Whenever she thought about it, she would feel like the worst person in the world. She was happy. What more did she want?

"Do you know what you are saying, Myka?" Helena asked.

She nodded gravely.

"Then stop," Helena said, almost sounding like she was begging. "Just stop. This is real. The twenty years we spent together are real. Max and Kate are real."

She looked at Pete. Without her even asking, he answered, "My vibe can be wrong. It's not the first time."

...

She tried to stop thinking about it. She laughed. She danced. She did what newlyweds do on their wedding day. Be happy.

And she was, which was why she couldn't understand what she was about to do.

"Mom?" it was Max. Myka was at the front door, trying to unlock the door as quietly as possibly. "Where are you going?"

"I'm just going out for a little drive," she lied. "Go back to sleep."

"You're not going be one of those people who goes to the grocery store and never come back, are you?" he asked.

She felt her heart dropped.

She took a deep breath and then walked up the stairs towards her son.

"No, honey. Of course not," she said. Then she summoned all the strength in her to say the next sentence, "I will not disappear. I promise." She hugged her son. "Besides, I still enjoy making your life miserable."

He had grown so much over the past year. But she was still taller. So she can still ruffle his hair like she always used to. In about a year, she would probably have to stand on her toes to reach his head.

"Mom, I know I haven't said this in a while but you're the best mom in the world."

She chuckled. "Just don't tell your mother that. She'll get competitive and keep shoving her students' feedbacks at your face."

"My students love me more than my children," they both said, accent and all.

...

When Pete had his mental breakdown at the Stratosphere, there was a room no one thought to check. Room 9001. She only noticed it from the report by the security staff after Pete was fired. By then, she was in agreement with everyone that Pete was wrong so she threw out the report and never thought of it until today.

When she asked the reception if she could have the room for the night, they told her there was no such room. But here she was, standing in front of it. She took a deep breath and pushed the door handle down. It was unlocked.

She opened the door slowly, her right hand clutching on her gun. The room was dark with a purple glow at its center. It was emanating from a globe. A man was staring at it, paying no mind to Myka. It was Steve Marcello.

"Mr Marcello," she called.

He didn't even look up.

She called again. Still nothing.

She stepped closer to the man. Her right hand still on her gun.

"Mr Marcello," she said, nudging him.

He stirred and turned to Myka. He blinked. Then he turned back to the globe. Immediately, he released it from his hands. It rolled across the table and fell off it. The globe shattered when it hit the floor.

He sighed in relief. Then he jumped off his chair and hugged Myka.

"Thank you," he said. "Thank you."

...

It was like waking up from a dream. Except Pete wasn't asleep before. He was standing at a hot dog stand and the vendor was asking if he wanted mustard on his hot dog.

"Yes on the mustard," he said to the vendor. "And I'm never drinking again."

"Good for you, man," the vendor said.

He looked at his watch. "Shit, I'm late."

...

Myka was waiting in a motel room for the last member in her team. They were all supposed to be here half an hour ago. But Lattimer still had not shown up yet.

At some point during her wait, she zoned out. It was when Lattimer burst through the door that she snapped out of it.

She was in such a good mood that she just started on the briefing without yelling at him for being late.

It felt like she just woke up from a really nice dream.

...

"They don't remember anything at all?" Helena asked MacPherson.

"No," he said. "The Warehouse took care of that."

"Why was Myka the one who figured out about the Phobos Globe?"

"All of you had your fears. You fear your grief. What it could make you do. So in that world, Christina was replaced by a family you built with Miss Bering. Mr Lattimer feared his alcoholism. So in that world, he was in a constant state of inebriation without any consequences. But Miss Bering feared love. At the beginning, it went according to the globe's plan. She was living in a city she hated, doing a job she also hated. But then she met you and fell in love. She had a life with you and nothing bad happened. She found strength in that and broke the curse."

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

He smiled. "For this," he held up a paper.

She remembered that letter. She wrote it for Myka one morning when she told Myka that there was another world where they met in a very different, very bad circumstance. Myka insisted that she too wanted to know the flattering words about her that Helena had wrote. So Helena wrote the letter exactly as she remembered. It was the letter Myka had shown her when Myka visited her time.

"Where did you get that?" she asked him.

"This is the first evidence of physical time travel. I suppose all that crossing through time you both did for each other made an artifact."

"I thought everything about that world disappeared once the globe was broken."

"That is why it is an artifact," was his answer. It meant he couldn't explain it as well.

"Who are you?" she asked.

MacPherson laughed. "I am the necessary evil," he said. "Now, will you please step in the Bronzer?"

She didn't want to. She wanted to go to Myka. She wanted her family back.

But it was not as easy as that. There was no longer a Phobos globe to stop her from returning to her time. She couldn't do that to Myka.

So she stepped into the Bronzer and waited alone until her consciousness was transported back to her body in 1887.


	5. Epilogue

Pete didn't trust H.G. Wells. He got a bad vibe every time he was around her. But she trusted Myka more. Whenever H.G. was around Myka, she had this smile. A smile only reserved for H.G.

They were talking about some book Pete had never heard of. Myka was laughing at a joke H.G. made that he couldn't understand. He supposed it was fair because H.G. never understood his jokes too.

When Pete saw them together, his vibes go all weird because he would have this bad vibe he always had around H.G. but also this good vibe he can't quite explain. Most of the time, the good one trumped the bad one and he can't help but be happy for Myka. He didn't think there was anyone after Sam who made Myka this happy. Happier even.

If only one of them would make the first move instead of bashfully dancing around each other like awkward teenagers.

"How about a threesome?" he suggested suddenly. H.G. just told them about how many of her lovers were men and he had this great idea.

"Pete!" Myka exclaimed. He knew that if she wasn't sitting so far away, she would have punched him.

Claudia dropped the cookie she was eating.

H.G. was the only one who hadn't reacted to his suggestion. She looked like she was seriously considering it.

Myka's face went red. It could be jealousy. Or it could be the prospect that she would be having sex with H.G.

"No!" she said.

"Why not, Myka?" H.G. asked. "It could be fun."

"No!" she repeated. "Never. Not with Pete."

Pete laughed. She only stressed that she didn't want to do it with him.

"How about me?" Claudia asked. She was getting it too.

"No threesome will happen between anyone in this room," Myka said and stormed out of the room.

"Maybe a twosome," he heard Claudia mutter.

H.G. went after Myka.

Weird. Even though it was the first time he ever proposed a threesome to Myka and H.G. (and he predicted many more in the near future just to mess with Myka), it felt like they have had this conversation before.

"H.G. and Myka sitting on a tree…" Claudia started singing.

He probably did and can't remember it. Like his mother always said, he'd probably forget his head if it wasn't attached to his neck.

"K-I-S-S-I-N-G," he joined Claudia's singing.


End file.
